


That Fateful Night

by ashes_and_ashes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, HP - Freeform, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, James potter angst, M/M, Marauders, Marauders era, Regulus Black Angst, Sirius Black Angst, remus Lupin fanfic, remus lupin angst, sirius Black whump, sirius black fanfic, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-13 17:59:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17492585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes_and_ashes/pseuds/ashes_and_ashes
Summary: Regulus’ face is unmoving, motionless. Sirius is pleading now, a desperate, broken plea. “Please, Reg. I covered you. For 16 years I was tortured and abused and beaten and I endured it because of you. Because I love you. And I would do all of it again to save you.” He’s trembling, fingers pressed together. “But I can’t take this anymore. I can’t.”Regulus is emotionless, his voice quiet. “You love him? The boy, I mean. Remus?”Sirius nods, his voice a whisper. “I….” He swallows. “Yes.”





	1. Sirius

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Got a bunch of requests for a Sirius Running Away From Home thing, so I wrote it!! I worked pretty hard on this, so hopefully you like it! Just a note: this story is split into 3 parts (this is part 1.) Part 1 is from Sirius’ POV, Part 2 from James’ and Part 3 from Remus’.
> 
> And please be nice!! Still figuring Ao3 out...hopefully it gets easier...

He’s curled up in the corner, the wall cool against his back. Half-awake, almost unconscious, pressing himself into the cold stone.

Dimly, he can feel blood pooling around him.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he’s been there. The house is quiet, the silence heavy and suffocating, his ragged breaths echoing against the walls. A tomb, compared to the shouting and the screaming and the roaring that had filled the room earlier.

He wasn’t sure what had happened. He was in his room, writing a letter to Remus, when he heard the shouting.

“You! Get your worthless ass down here!”

He rushed down the stairs, to find Regulus pressed into the corner, his father lounging on one of the armchairs, his mother at the kitchen table.

She was furious, her rage filling the room, and instinctively, Sirius stepped forward, in front of Regulus, blocking him with his body.

He clenches his teeth against the memory, taking a shuddering breath. Something cracks, deep inside of him, and he winces, pressing a hand to his ribs. It wasn’t the first time Walburga had broken something, and he recognizes the sharp, burning pain that fills his lungs as he struggles to take another breath.

He was used to pain, had been subjected to it ever since he was born. He knew how to handle it, how to clench his teeth and bite his lip and how not to give in. He does this now, one hand braced against the floor, the other against his ribs. Tears burn in his eyes and he blinks them away, furiously, clenching his jaw as he pushes himself up.

He bites down hard, to muffle the scream that almost comes out of his throat. Not now, not now, he thinks, please not now, please don’t let me wake mother up. With a muffled groan, he sits up on his knees, one hand against the wall.

He laughs, a silent, sardonic sound. He thought he knew pain, thought he could take it, but nothing was as painful as seeing those letters.

He closes his eyes, bile burning his throat. He had stepped in front of Regulus, his mother scoffing at him.

“Pathetic,” she said. “Soft, weak-minded lout.”

Fuck off, Sirius had thought, making sure he covered his little brother’s body with his own. He didn’t say this, though, just bared his teeth and hissed, “What is it now, mother?” The last word was spat out, like a curse, years of hatred and anger and neglect filling his voice, bitter and mocking and defiant.

Walburga had said nothing, just pulled a stack of papers from her pocket, dropping them on the table, the sound echoing in the dark room.

And he’d never known fear before, not like this, the panic and the dread and the nausea that settled into his bones. He was frozen, the feeling rising up inside of him, something burning in his throat as he read the oh-so familiar handwriting on the side: To Sirius.

He glanced up, tried so hard not to let his mother see that raw emotion that he felt, threw up that wall between them. He shifted, adjusting his body, another barrier between her and Reg. “What the hell is this, mother?”

There was a sharp cracking sound, Sirius’ head hitting the wall behind him. His lip had been split open, blood trickling down his chin, but all he did was roll his head back and stared at Walburga, her wand still smoking from the spell she had casted. “Going through my mail now?”

There was another crack, hitting him from behind. He turned, his father’s wand pointed directly at him, his side burning. “Do shut up, Sirius.”

He just laughed, met his mother’s stare. “Anything you want to say?”

Walburga clenches her jaw. “Who. The hell. Is Remus?”

His heart pounded, but Sirius just gave her a small smirk. “Like I’d tell you. What more can you do to me? I’m used to it now.”

He saw the spark in Walburga’s eyes, the way it fell on Regulus, and Sirius shook his head. “You’re not touching him.”

He felt Regulus shaking his head, his movements frantic, and Sirius pressed him harder into the wall. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

Orion was on his feet now, wand pointed at Sirius as he said, “Step away.”

“Like fuck I will - “

BANG.

He heard Regulus’ screams, felt the blood run down his leg, and Sirius swore. He turned around, noticing the long gash on Regulus’ side, leaking blood on the ground, panic filling his gut. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

Walburga just laughed. Pain started to fill his side, and Sirius dropped his hand down. With a jolt, he realized what she had done.

She had shot Regulus right through Sirius’ body.

There’s another bang, and Sirius was thrown aside. Walburga held his gaze, her wand pointed at Regulus. “Who is Remus Lupin, and why are you writing him.”

Sirius was breathless, dizzy with pain. “Go to hell.”

There’s a smile on Walburga’s face as she lifted her wand. “Incendio.”

And Regulus was screaming, flames licking over his skin, screaming and screaming and screaming.

The sound Sirius made ripped his throat apart. He lunged forward, wanting to tear Walburga apart, when a sharp yank sent him sprawling. His father stood there, glass of wine in his hand, laughed over Sirius’ roars and Regulus’ screams. Walburga had just shrugged. “Who is Remus Lupin, and why is he writing to you?”

He barely had time to catch Regulus’ head shake before he was screaming again, edged with sobs that made Sirius want to rip his head open -

“He’s a friend from school.” The words bursted out of him, anything to stop the screams. “He’s in my grade, Gryffindor like me. One of my closest friends. Now let him go.”

Walburga had shaken her head. “Why is he writing to you?”

“We’re just friends - “

The wand fell, Walburga turning back to Regulus as Orion frowned. Sirius clenched his jaw, threw up mental shields because he knew what was coming.

The pain felt like his head was split open, Orion digging through his consciousness with sadistic pleasure. He gritted his teeth, tried to counter-attack, tried to throw him out, tried to block out Regulus’ screams -

“I’m dating him.” He spat the words out, clenched his fists. “I’m dating him.”

The room was silent, filled with lethal wrath as Walburga turned towards him. “What did you say?”

He swallowed. “I’m dating Remus.”

“Dating…?” The word broke off, by Walburga’ soft laugh. “Why does that surprise me? I should have known, you being a selfish little fucker.” She bares her teeth. “Should have known you’d be a fag as well.”

Then the wand fell, pain exploded over his body, and Sirius started screaming.

He clenches his teeth now, the agony still holding over his body. He’s shaking, his nerves overloaded by Crucio, sores on his mouth where he’s bitten through flesh. He doesn’t know how bad it is, can feel nothing but waves of pain move up and down his torso.

Sirius reaches forwards, wrapping his fingers around the iron rail of the staircase. He needs to get to his room, get to his wand, heal his ravaged body and figure out what to do. He grits his teeth, glancing up the enormous staircase. This was going to hurt.

With a small grimace, Sirius pulls the handrail, pushing with his other hand, managing to get his knee on the stair. He’s trembling, waves of nausea filling his body, muffling his scream against his shoulder as he pulls the rest of his body onto the stair, curling up into a small ball.

He pants, smiling bitterly. 27 left to go, he thinks, reaching forward for the next rail.

When he finally reaches the top, he’s shaking, sweat dripping down his face. There are score marks across his palm, from where he’s pulled the flesh against the metal, his entire body aching. He bites his lip, carving bloody furrows into the gum, clenching his fists.

It’s almost too much, dragging himself down the hallway, muffling his whimpers against his arm. He wants to sob when he gets to his bedroom, thanking God that he left his door open.

He crawls into his room, kicks the door shut, and for a moment all he can do is gasp, letting the agony wash over him. He collapses on the floor, trying to steady his breathing, the pain obliterating all rational thought and where is my wand -

“Fuck.” It hurts to speak, but Sirius does it anyways. He sees his wand, on his desk, right in the middle. His heart stops, panic filling his gut because it was so high up and God, how can he reach that -

He bites down, hard, not giving himself time to think before he stands up, quickly, skin tearing, pain ripping through him. Blood explodes in his mouth, his ragged breathing filling the room, and he stumbles back, against the bed, letting the pain wash over him. He catches a glimpse of himself in his mirror, all bleeding wounds and broken skin and shattered eyes.

And he’s sobbing, like he’s never done before, sobbing through tightly gritted teeth, legs stretched in front of him. He’s 16 years old, 16, and he’s been tortured and beaten and hurt so badly, and he’s trying so hard to keep it together.

“I can’t do this.” He gasps the words, hyperventilating. “I can’t do this, I can’t…”

With a stifled sob, he places the tip of his wand against his ribs, wincing at the pain. “Episkey.”

Sirius moans, his ribs grating together, and he grips the bed so hard it creaks. “Dark…magic…goddamn it. I can’t heal it, I can’t heal it - “

He grits his teeth, harder, panic flooding him because he’s going to die, in agony, right on his bedroom floor and maybe death wouldn’t be so bad, if only to spare him from the pain. It hurt, so bad, because at least they didn’t know before, never could hurt him in that way, but now his secret was out and he had to get out, he had to get out -

I have to get out.

The words jolt him, startling him. I need to get out.

With a grimace, he places his wand against his chest. “Sine Sensu.”

He gasps, taking a breath, the pain fading slightly, just enough to function. His trunk is in the corner, full of his school supplies, and he hurriedly stuffs some clothes, the remainder of Remus’ letters and a bag of coins into it. He slings his cloak over his head, levitating the trunk with his wand and exits, locking the door behind him.

The stairs are hard, Sirius gripping onto the banister tightly as he gingerly limps down each step, occasionally vanishing drops of his blood from his drag upstairs.

He finally gets to the bottom, turning his back on the dark kitchen beside him, lugging his trunk into the main foyer. In the daytime, it was beautiful, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He stops dead, Regulus blocking his way to the door. The moon rose behind him, framing him in silver, the burns prominent on his thin face. “I knew you’d be leaving.”

Sirius exhales. “Reg. Reg, please, please, you have to let me go.”

Regulus is expressionless, his voice monotone. “Running away? What happened to my older brother, Sirius? The one who would ‘always protect me’ from mother?” The tone is mocking, bitter.

Sirius’ voice is low, shaking. “I can’t live like this, Reg, I can’t - “

“You lived with it for 16 years.”

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s not just that.” He scoffs, tears in his eyes, self-loathing in his gut. “They never used to know. About me, I mean. That I’m…that I’m…”

“Gay?” The word is cold, empty, and Sirius swallows. “Yeah. It was the one part of me they couldn’t touch, you know? Everything they did…everything they said…it never hurt as bad, because they didn’t know.” He looks up. “And now they do. So you have to let me go, Reg. You have to.”

Regulus’ face is unmoving, motionless. Sirius is pleading now, a desperate, broken plea. “Please, Reg. I covered you. For 16 years I was tortured and abused and beaten and I endured it because of you. Because I love you. And I would do all of it again to save you.” He’s trembling, fingers pressed together. “But I can’t take this anymore. I can’t.”

Regulus is emotionless, his voice quiet. “You love him? The boy, I mean. Remus?”

Sirius nods, his voice a whisper. “I….” He swallows. “Yes.”

There’s a silence, stretching between them. Memories of a lifetime, two boys building forts together, one reading to another, lying in the same bed. Because no matter what, no matter the horrors and the pain, they were still brothers, still family.

When Regulus speaks, his face is open, unguarded. “Go. Get out of here.” A tiny smile lights his face. “Take my broom. Mother and father locked yours up, and mine is faster, anyways. Go. And don’t come back.”

Sirius nods. “Thank you.” He’s about to turn away, bitterness welling inside him, when he whips around, wrapping his brother in a hug. “Come with me. Please. Screw then, we can be safe. We can be free.”

Regulus’ eyes are closed, his fingers clutching Sirius’ so hard, they go white. “You know I can’t.”

There are so many things he wants to say, so many secrets. I’m sorry, for everything, for being so difficult. For screwing up your life.

But the words can never be spoken, never uttered, so Sirius releases Regulus. “Stay alive. Please.”

Regulus nods. “You too.”

He knows it’s a goodbye, a final statement, that the next time they meet, they will be enemies, and Sirius wants to scream. He pushes his brother’s hair out of his face, presses a kiss to his forehead. “If you need me…I’ll always be there.”

Regulus just nods.

So Sirius turns, lifting his trunk.

And he steps out of the Black Family Manor for the very last time.


	2. James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even with his shirt on, James can see the bleeding. It stains the linen, filling the white with crimson, slashes and gashes and cuts. He watches, in mute horror, the way they laced up and down his back, curled over to his ribs and down his stomach, a patchwork of shredded skin.

Sirius is flying, wind and rain in his face, hurtling through the skies at breakneck speed. Regulus’ broom is unfamiliar to him, built for someone with fast motions instead of the lazy curves that Sirius was used to and he swears.

He knows he’s shaking, so hard he feels the broom vibrating underneath him, numb fingers clutching to the handle, blood dripping onto the grass below. With a curse, he redoubles his speed, pain flaring in his back. _I can’t pass out_ , he thinks, _not now, just let me get to James’ and then I can die in peace -_

There’s a dark mass in front of him, Sirius recognizing the house, and with a sigh of relief, he points the broom down.

He lands in a long skid, pebbles flying everywhere, rain soaking his cloak, and it’s all he can do to climb off the broom before he collapses.

~

James is half asleep when he sees someone falling.

 

His bedroom is by the front of the house, a small window facing out onto the muddy yard, and James can just barely make out a shadowed figure falling through the trees, a crumpled mass on the ground.

 

Terror floods his body, pure, undiluted terror, as a million different possibilities run through his head. _Oh, God, What if it’s a Death Eater? What if it’s You-Know-Who? What if -_

 

He leashes the thoughts, reaching over to his nightstand. He gropes blindly in the dark, feeling the cool lenses of his glasses, and he pulls them on before pocketing his wand.

The stairs are quiet, creaking, the hallway dark as he slowly steps down. He holds his wand at the side, so tight his knuckles turn white, his heart a rapid blur in his chest as he slowly opens the front door and steps out into the yard.

 

It’s pouring, the rain instantly soaking James’ hair and pajamas, turning the dirt into thick mud. He winces as he steps, the water coating his legs, as he gingerly makes his way towards the crumpled black figure in the middle of the yard.

 

There’s a long skid mark, pebbles lying everywhere, the signs of a broom landed too quickly and James frowns. He prods the tracks with his foot, noting the small red drops that cling to a few of the rocks, before approaching the crumpled figure. “Sh-show yourself!”

 

He tries to keep the wand steady, tries to keep the panic from his face, the absolute fear and terror and dread. He didn’t know how Sirius did it, the utter compartmentalization of his true feelings, the way his face seemed to be carved out of marble. He swears, willing his face to remain calm as he shouts again. “Show yourself!”

 

The figure on the ground makes a rattling coughing noise, one bruised hand pressed to the ground. “Why...don’t you...go...and fuck yourself?”

 

The voice is familiar, the biting tone even more so, and James almost lets his knees drop at the sound of it. “Pads??”

 

“No. It’s the bloody mailman.” Sirius snips. He pushes himself off the ground, his breathing sharp and uneven, one hand wrapped around the tree as he braced himself. His trunk and his broomstick are at his feet, the former covered in scratches and dents, and James frowns. “Sirius. You okay? You look like you’ve been through hell.”

 

Sirius’ voice is quiet, breathless, as he says, “Maybe I have been.”

 

James looks down, frowning at the broom. It’s made of dark wood, the word Black stamped across the back. He recognizes it immediately, the shape and the length, and he exhales. “Pads. That’s Regulus’ broom. Are you sure you’re alright?”

 

“Yeah.” Sirius’ breaths are becoming sharper, pain covering his face as he swallows. “Yeah, I’m...”

 

The words are broken off, fading into the darkness as Sirius swears. He stands, slightly, hands white-knuckles against the tree before he collapses.

 

James jumps forwards, sliding his arms around Sirius as both their knees hit the wet ground. He winces, the bones in Sirius’ elbows pressing against his stomach, his ribs protruding from under the thin shirt he wore. Panic mounts in James’ stomach, his lap getting cold with water as he yells, “MUM?”

 

There’s a slight clattering inside the house, one or two lights flickering on, but all James can do his focus on Sirius, unconscious in his arms. Sirius’ breathing is fast, fluttering, his pulse thready, and James sucks in a breath. “Fuck. _Fuck_ , no, Sirius, don’t you dare die on me! Don’t you fucking dare die on me - “

 

The door flings open, light from inside the house spilling over into the rain, and James starts as Euphemia Potter races into the yard. She’s wearing her nightgown, the rain soaking her as she gaped in silent horror at the body in James’ arms. “James. What the hell is this?”

 

He’s just on the brink now, something warm spreading over his knees, and panic makes his mind go blank. “Sirius.”

 

There’s a brief silence as Euphemia pauses, to take everything in, her face tight as she picks up Sirius’ legs. “We need to bring him inside.”

James wraps his numb fingers around Sirius’ shoulder, the two of them taking him inside the warm house.

 

With a flick of her wand, Euphemia has cleared the sofa, the pillows and blankets and piles of stuff flying onto the carpet as James carefully drops Sirius onto the cushions. His eyes are still closed, his breathing light, and Euphemia frowns. “James, come here.”

 

James nods numbly, fingers brushing over Sirius’ as Euphemia swears. “I need you to get his cloak off. I need to see if there are injuries underneath.”

 

“Can’t you - “

 

Euphemia shakes her head, her eyes going dark. “Do as I say.”

 

With fumbling fingers, James reaches over, unfastening the silver cords that held the dark green cloak together. He curses as he pulls the cloak off, streams of water pouring off it onto the floor, collecting in little puddles. He tosses the cloak aside, wincing as it sticks onto Sirius’ skin and stops dead.

 

Even with his shirt on, James can see the bleeding. It stains the linen, filling the white with crimson, slashes and gashes and cuts. He watches, in mute horror, the way they laced up and down his back, curled over to his ribs and down his stomach, a patchwork of shredded skin.

 

Euphemia is pale, one hand pressed to her mouth as she curses. “Oh, God. Merlin’s beard.” She rounds on James, still staring in mute horror at the wounds. “Did you know about this?”

 

James shakes his head, mouth gaping. “No. Never. I mean....we all knew Sirius had...troubles at home, but.....” He swallows. “Not like this. Never like this.”

 

He should have seen the signs, though, the invisible scars that Sirius carried, even since he was young. That first day, on the Hogwarts express, James coming up to fish bump Sirius and Sirius flinching as if someone had burned him. The shuttered eyes and the sullen skin, the way he seemed hollowed our whenever he got back from the holidays. The way he moved, like an old man after the holidays, so sacred that he would tear open skin and flesh and scars. The way he yearned contact, yearned the feeling of someone touching him, in some other way then pain.

 

 _I should have known_ , James thinks, disgusted with himself. I _should have realized, should have asked him..._

 

He winces now, cringing, at the sight of Sirius’ back. He’d seen scars before - Remus having one that stretched from his neck to his hips, but never like the ones that covered Sirius’ back. Layers upon layers, like frozen snow, white marks and red marks and pink marks, all bleeding out slowly onto the carpet. Hundreds of even slashes, a railway track marked in blood, ragged skin and sundered flesh.

Carved in top of these lines are thick, livid scars, spelling out a word on his back: DISHONOUR.

 

Euphemia brushes a hand over them. “These are old scars. Maybe....2 years old?”

“He would have got them when he was 14,” James whispers. “God, he was so young.”

Euphemia shakes her head, sorrow passing over her face before she straightens. “Okay. Stay with him, James. I need to get a few things.”

 

James watches as his mother hurries off, disappearing into a cupboard somewhere, before returning his gaze to Sirius. “Pads. Hey, I....” He swallows, thickly. “Please. You have to be okay. C’mon, Pads, you have to be okay. You can’t let those bastards win.” He bites his lip. “Please.”

 

It was strange to see Sirius like this, completely stripped of all defenses. He’d been friends with Sirius for long enough to know he hid pain well, behind smirks and sarcastic comments, driving everyone off so they wouldn’t see him cry.

 

He didn’t think that he had ever seen Sirius cry before.

 

Euphemia bustles over, a box of potions and salves in her hand, cursing again at the marks. With a flick of her wand, she begins to siphon the blood off Sirius’ back, and James swears. “Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

 

Without the blood, he could see every line, every slash, every movement of Walburga’s wand, etched into Sirius’ skin. A patchwork of scars, coating Sirius’ back and arms, always where it would be covered by robes, hears and years worth of them. Euphemia frowns. “This is dark magic.” She gently traces one of the marks, a patch of skin turned white by hundreds of tiny pinpricks. “That’s Crucio. Here and here and here. Possibly four or five times.”

 

“Jesus.” James feels his legs give way as he sinks into the carpet. “What did she do to him?”

 

Euphemia says nothing, applying some sort of salve, and James bites his lip, so hard it starts to bleed. Sirius is still out, pain coating every muscle, and James starts. “I need to talk to someone.”

 

Euphemia practically ignores him, concentrating on Sirius, and James slips out, into the hallway. He runs up the stairs, taking two at a time, hurling himself into his bedroom. He finds a scrap of parchment on a table, a pen on the floor, and he hurriedly scrawls something onto it:

 

_Remus. My house. Sirius injured. -J_

 

With a flick of his wand, it attaches to the leg of his owl, and he practically tosses the bird out the window before sprinting downstairs.

Sirius is stirring now, a strangled moan forming from his lips, as James hurls himself in front of him. “Sirius.”

 

There’s a silence, Euphemia still working on his back, before Sirius slowly cracks open an eye. “Hey....Prongs....”

 

James swears, low and viciously. “What the fuck, Sirius? What the fuck is she doing to you?”

 

Sirius just shakes his head, wincing at the motion. “‘S fine. Nothing.”

 

“Bullshit nothing.” Panic and relief makes his voice sharp, words bursting from his mouth. “She’s hurting you, Sirius. She used a fucking Unforgivable Curse on you!!

 

“Always has been. Never told you.” Sirius closes his eyes, and James can see him biting his lip, pressing his teeth into the soft flesh. He sighs, softer. “What can I do, Pads. What can I do?”

 

Sirius’ voice is faint, as he starts to slide into unconsciousness. “Thank you.”

 

“No, no, hey. Stay with me!” James grabs Sirius’ hands, crushing the fingers tight.

 

“You’re my best mate, Sirius, you’re not going to die now. You can’t! Who’s going to tease me about...Evans and laugh with me in class and drive Snivellus up the goddamn wall? Who’s going to be there, know me so well that they can practically read my mind?” He swallows. “Who’s going to be you, Pads?”

 

There’s a knock on the door, James opening it with his wand, as Remus hurries into the room. That same panic that James felt before his mirrored on his face, as he slides to the ground, pressing a kiss to Sirius’ forehead. James exhales. “Remus.”

 

Remus doesn’t look at him, one hand brushing Sirius’ face, intimate in the way only they could be. “What the fuck happened?”

 

James shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

 

 


	3. Remus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus leans forwards, cupping Sirius’ face, the curve of his jaw against his palm. “Sirius. What happened?”  
> Sirius exhales, his eyes fluttering shut. Remus can see the indents in his lip from where he bit down, deep, jagged lines. When he speaks, his voice is empty. “She found them. The letters, I mean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so after some chats with some peeps on Tumblr, I decided that this is NOT going to be the last chapter! I’m going to write one more chapter from Regulus’ point of view, which will deal with the repercussions of Sirius leaving, and how his parents would take it out on him. Hope you enjoy!

The night was freezing.

Rain, pouring down from the sky, soaking through Remus’ cloak and sweater and shirt as he hurtles towards the Potter’s House. He’s high in the air, clutching an old and crappy broomstick as the wind howls against his face, numbing it.

He curses as he swerves, narrowly missing a bit of cloud as points the tail of his broom down and races, landing in a huge skid in the wet yard.

He tosses the broom aside, feet soaked through with thick mud, rubbing his hands tightly together. He hated brooms, hated flying in general, but it was the quickest way to get to James’ and Sirius was injured and -

He’s barely knocked on the door when it flies open, light spilling into the dark yard, illuminating the twisted branches of the trees behind him. He hurries in, not bothering to remove his sodden cloak as his eyes fall upon the scene on the couch.

He knows he’s dirty, probably looking wreckedfrom his frantic journey here, but all he can do is run over, knees barking as they hit the ground, one hand finding Sirius’.

It’s comforting, to be able to hold something so familiar, the long, slender fingers, the raised scars on his palm. He squeezes it, trying not to think of how cold it was, or the flickering pulse in his wrist.

James and Euphemia are there, looking absolutely exhausted in their night clothes, Euphemia dabbing something on Sirius’ back. He turns to James, his voice shaking slightly as he says, “What the fuck happened?”

James sighs, raking his hand through his hair. His arms are muddy, and there is blood all over his legs, soaking his pajama pants. “I don’t know.”

“How did he get here - “

James shakes his head. “Crash landed. He was bleeding out on the broom.” He curses, as Sirius lets out a small noise on the couch. “It wasn’t even his broom, it was Regulus’”

Remus feels his heart stutter. “Regulus’?”

“Yeah.” James’ fingers are clenched, the knuckles going white as he swears. “Shit, Re, just... his back.”

There is dread in his stomach, a heavy metal weight as Remus walks over to where Euphemia is. She barely even greets him, just continues dabbing ointment as Remus catches a glimpse of the scars.

They’ve dated for long enough that some are familiar, from when Remus had run his hands against them when they kissed, memorizing the jagged lines on Sirius’ back. He recognizes some, a few of them, mainly the ones on his shoulders and his against his neck.

But there are more, angry, deep ones, wide slashes and narrow cuts, scoring Sirius’ flesh. They curl around his rib cage and underneath his shoulder blades, reaching down past his waistline and over his stomach.

He touches a spot with a shaking hand, the little patch of skin turned white with hundreds of star-shaped pinpricks. “That’s...that’s Crucio.” He touches another spot. “Here and here and....here.”

“There’s more.” James’ voice is flat. “All over his back and arms. And there’s a clean hole on his hip - someone cast a spell that ripped right through him, between the gaps of bone.”

“Who?” The word is a breath, shaking slightly. “Who the hell did this?”

James shakes his head. “He passed out before he could tell me.”

He isn’t sure how long they stand there, Remus holding Sirius’ hand and James pacing up and down the living room. Hours seem to pass by, water streaming down Remus’ back. His legs ache, his knees burning, but he waits there as Euphemia continues to dab ointment and lotions onto Sirius’ back.

She stands with a groan after a few hours has passed, stretching out as she shakes her head. “It’s dark magic. That’s all I can do.” She frowns. “We should get him to the guest room. You two, carry him over.”

Him and James lift him without complaint, moving him down the hallway and onto the bed. He’s so damn light, bones pressing into Remus’ flesh as he gently sets Sirius down, arranging the blankets around him. They all stare down at him for a moment, the three of them, before Euphemia sighs. “I need to sleep.” She seems to know better then to ask the two of them to sleep though, handing James a small bottle. “You need to clean his wounds after 2 hours, otherwise the poison could spread.” James nods, and Euphemia is gone, disappearing up the stairs, leaving the three of them alone in the bedroom.

“Jesus Christ.” James swears, fingers clenching together. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Remus just shakes his head, enclosing Sirius’ cold hand in his warm ones, pressing them together, brushing his scars against Sirius’. “I don’t even know how he’s still alive. Those were Dark curses. He should be dead.”

James scoffs, yanking at his hair. “God. They...how could they? To their own son?”

“They probably don’t see him as that.” The words are harsh, but Remus doesn’t bother to soften them as he bites his lip. It’s a habit he copied from Sirius, soft flesh under hard teeth, and he can feel blood starting to well in his mouth, the familiar taste of copper and salt. He sighs, his head leaning back against the wall. “God. He must be in so much pain, and I can’t do anything about it.”

There’s a sharp bang as James punches the wall, blood rising from his split knuckles. “That’s what pisses me off.” He swears. “Shit, Re. I just... both of you have gone through so much. You and Sirius. And I... I don’t know. I don’t know how to help.”

“Maybe that’s it.” Remus stands, grabbing James’ arm before he can punch the wall again. “Maybe you don’t have to help. Maybe you’re already helping. Maybe we don’t need another therapist, another support beam. Maybe we just need a friend.”

James shakes his head. “I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re already doing so much - “

A strangled groan cuts him off, Remus over to the bed in an instant. “Sirius. Pads. Pads.”

He reaches over, grasping Sirius’ hand. “Hey. Hey. You’re okay, you’re safe, it’s fine.”

James is next to him in a flash, one hand resting on his knee. “Sirius. Sirius, mate, we’ve got you.”

There’s a silence, long and stretching, James and Remus holding their breath before Sirius finally cracks open an eye. It’s bloodshot, red, from crying or screaming Remus doesn’t know.“Hey...Prongs...”

“Sirius.” James shakes his head, burying his face in his hands. “God, Sirius, you scared me to death there, what the actual fuck happened?”

“I...” Sirius shrugs, wincing as the movement pulls at his skin. “I don’t know, I just... it was...” He trails off. “Re.”

Remus closes his eyes, the sight of his battered face and bruised body too much. “You alright?”

A choked sound comes out of Sirius’ throat, rasping at his vocal cords. “Yes. No. I don’t know, I...”

It hurt. It hurt so much to see Sirius like this, holding back tears, wincing at every movement, trying to keep it together. Remus exhales, biting deeper into his lip as Sirius lets out a small laugh. “I didn’t want you guys to see me like this.”

James lets out a trembling breath. “Bullshit, Pads, we’re your friends. You don’t have to hide anything from us.”

“I know.” Sirius’ voice is quiet. “I just thought it would be easier.”

Remus shakes his head, fingers tugging at the messy curls. “Who did this, Pads. Who hurt you like this?”

“I...” Sirius lets out a bitter laugh, thin and brittle, like a sheet of glass about to shatter. “Who else?”

My mother. The words hang unspoken in the air between them. “I thought I could handle it. But she...she...” He looks down, swallowing hard. “Re, I...”

James stands, brushing a hand over Sirius’ leg and Remus’ shoulder; he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. It locks with a faint clicking noise, and Sirius lets out a faint smile. “He knows us so well.”

“He’s our friend.” Remus leans forwards, cupping Sirius’ face, the curve of his jaw against his palm. “Sirius. What happened?”

Sirius exhales, his eyes fluttering shut. Remus can see the indents in his lip from where he bit down, deep, jagged lines. When he speaks, his voice is empty. “She found them. The letters, I mean.”

It’s like a block of ice has sunken into Remus’ stomach. Everything goes numb, a little curl of dread unfolding in his stomach, time slowing down. His voice is a near whisper when he speaks. “How?”

Sirius shrugs, wincing. “I don’t know. But she found them.” The smallest edge of a smirk crosses his lips. “And, by God, she was furious.”

Remus quickly backtracks, sensing the misery in Sirius’ eyes.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen Sirius cry before.

“You don’t have to talk about it, Pads.”

Sirius closes his eyes, then opens them, pulling up a passable imitation of his old smirk. “What good would it do, being locked away in here.” He tilts his head. “Pain is pain, Moony. It doesn’t change.” He sighs.

“She called me down to the kitchen. Her and Father and Regulus, all gathered around the main table. And... I was sarcastic. I shouldn’t have been. She slapped the letters down, a whole stack of them, Moony, 7 or 8 of them. And...” He falters. “She asked me who you were. I told her to go to hell.” He winces. “And... I don’t know if she read any of the letters, or if it was my tone, or if she was just fucking sick of me, but she lost it. Yelling, swearing. She hit me with a few minor curses. Nothing too bad.”

Remus reaches up, brushing the torn edge of flesh on Sirius’ face. It arched across his cheekbone, carving it out. “Bullshit. She fucking cursed you, Sirius.”

Sirius leans back. “I don’t think I’ve heard you swear this much, Moons.”

“I’m fucking pissed off, Pads. She shouldn’t have done that.”

Sirius closes his eyes, resting his head on Remus’ arm. “I’m used to it. The minor curses, I mean. I’m even used to Crucio, since she started using it when I was 13.” He laughs, mockingly. “Anyways, after awhile she realized that she couldn’t do anything to me by cursing me. I told her that I had gotten used to it, that she had already done everything she could and nothing could hurt me now.” He winces. “Wrong thing to say. They both turned to Reg. Her and my father. And when I covered him...they cursed him. Right through my body.”

He takes Remus’ hand, guides it down to his hip, where that gaping hole was. He presses Remus’ hand to it, flinching slightly. “And I was thrown back and...God. They hurt him. So badly. And he was screaming on the floor and I was begging, I was pleading to my parents, Take me, hurt me instead, stop hurting him.”

Remus can hear it, the desperation in Sirius’ voice. He can almost see it, Sirius, to injured to stand but still crawling, on his knees, trying to save a brother that had only ever used him. “Pads...”

Sirius shakes his head, Remus’ hand still on his hip. “And he was screaming and I was begging and my parents were yelling and...I just snapped. I told them. That we were dating. And then...well. This.”

Sirius was still not crying, still refused to let the tears fall, and Remus’ heart breaks. Sirius was a statue, broken marble and shattered glass, bleeding roses from gaping wounds, shadows for hair and mist for eyes, the most beautiful thing Remus had ever seen. He reaches over, pulling Sirius in for a kiss, just a brushing of mouths. “Pads. It doesn’t matter. I don’t give a fuck if they know. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s not just that.” He scoffs. “I dragged myself up to my room afterwards, you know. One stair at a time, trying so hard not to scream and... I just broke down. I was sobbing in my room, sobbing and sobbing and... I broke. I packed my trunk and I walked out. And Regulus was there.”

There’s raw agony on Sirius’ face, open and gaping. “He laughed at me. Told me I had broken my promise -‘What happened to my older brother, Sirius? The one who would ‘always protect me’ from mother?’’”

He’s shaking, the bed trembling underneath him, the tears so close to falling now. “And I told him I couldn’t live like this, couldn’t take it any more. And he told me to take his broom. To run away and never come back.” He shakes his head. “And I owe him. I owe him so much, for letting me go.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” Remus’ voice is firm. “I’m sorry if I sound insensitive, but I’ve seen him. I’ve seen him laughing at you. I’ve held you while you were shaking, when he told everyone we were dating. You covered his ass for 16 years, Pads. The least he could do was let you go.”

There’s a small ding to his left, Remus startling as he remembers. “I need to put ointment on your back. Sit up.”

He grabs the ointment, working it onto his fingers, Sirius sitting on the bed. He sits behind him, dabbing some onto his fingers before touching it to the cut.

Sirius hisses, fingers clenching in the sheets, Remus flinching back. “Sorry. Does it sting?”

Sirius shakes his head, gritting his teeth. “It’s fine.” He lets out a shuddering breath. “I can’t leave him though. I took the brunt of my parents for years. They almost killed me. And I know my parents, Re, they’ll take it out on him - “

“Sirius. They won’t.”

He’s silent for awhile, Remus working more ointment into the cut. He grimaces as he touches the ragged edges, where spells had ripped though skin and muscle, down to bone in some places. Sirius hisses again, and Remus pulls back, reaching for some more salve.

He’s never seen Sirius like this, so shattered beyond repair. Sirius was a fighter, iron and blood and steel, always laughing or yelling or swearing. Nothing like the broken shell here, the shards of broken spirit.

The silence stretches, broken only by Sirius’ groans as the ointment took effect. Remus bites his lip as he works more into the skin, hating the ugly gashes, the bleeding wounds, hating Sirius’ family with every drop of blood that welled -

“I’m going back.”

Remus whips his head up, heart pounding. “The fuck you are.”

“I can’t...I can’t leave him, they’ll kill him - “

“You’re not going back. You’re kidding, right?” Remus sweeps his hand out, gesturing to the bleeding wounds. “They did this to you for dating me. What do you think they’ll do now you’ve run away?”

Sirius shakes his head, eyes gleaming. “I can’t...I need to go back - “

“Over my dead body.” Sirius and Remus look up, to see James leaning against the doorframe, face devoid of his usual smirk. “I mean it, Sirius. You will have to literally fucking kill me before you step back into that house.”

Sirius is panting now, chest rising and falling as he gasps, “You don’t know what it’s like, to have them as parent, James. They will kill him.”

“They won’t.” Remus speaks, from the bed beside Sirius. “You’ve run away. They can’t kill him. You’ve basically relinquished your hold to the Black Family. They won’t give up their only heir.”

“They’ll hurt him.”

James shakes his head. “They’ll hurt him anyways, regardless if you’re there or not. They’ll probably start torturing him the minute you come back. You’ve proven that they can’t do anything to you now, so they’ll take it out on Regulus anytime they want to punish you.”

“Not if I can get him out - “

Remus swears. “Fuck, Pads, don’t you see? You can’t protect anyone if your body is rotting in a shallow grave in some cemetery!”

Sirius flinches, as if he’s been hit, and Remus instantly regrets the words. “Pads. Pads, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - “

He’s cut off by Sirius, burying his face against Remus’ shoulder. “I can’t... I can’t do this.”

James kneels in front of him, cupping his hands. “Yes. You can. We’ll take you in. I know mum and dad will.”

Sirius is still trembling, his tears wet against Remus’ skin, and Remus tangled his fingers in his hair. “It’s alright, Pads. We’ve got you.”

Sirius just nods, letting out a shivering breath. “Don’t let go.”

So Remus presses Sirius closes, cradling his bleeding body with his own, and they stay there as the night passes into day.

 


	4. Regulus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew, ever since he was 7, ever since he had watched Sirius scream his mother down after she hit him, that Sirius could not be controlled. That no matter how many times she’s beat him, no matter how many times she’s tortured him, no matter how many Crucio’s and Lacero’s and Secares she used, they could never break him enough that he would stop fighting. He was a warrior, and they would never be able to tame him.  
> But he knew his brother, knew him even when Regulus was 7. There was only one thing tethering him, keeping him in this hellhole, and that was Regulus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, originally this fic was supposed to be 3 chapters long, but all of a sudden, this chapter from Regulus’ POV popped out!! I hope you enjoy it!

He sits at the piano, his fingers bleeding and bruised. His hands dance over the keys, a low, lilting melody, the same tune that he had been playing for hours.

He wrote this song, back when he was 13, him and Sirius. He would play the lower part, and Sirius the higher, four hands on one keyboard, the same, haunting notes filling the hall where the grand piano was. They spent hours on this, the harmony and the tempo, hours perfecting it until both were satisfied.

The notes are burned into his memory now, seared into his consciousness, and Regulus lets his fingers press the keys as his mind wanders.

The storm roars above him, rain pounding on the glass, and he wonders if Sirius made it out alive.

He shakes his head quickly, banishing the thoughts. He knew his father could peer into his mind, knew he could rifle through thoughts like stepping from one room to the next. He couldn’t risk it, his parents knowing that Sirius had fled.

He’s known it since they were young, since they were old enough to walk and talk and fight. Sirius was the flames, burning up, with too much light, too much feelings, consuming himself and all others until only bitter charcoal and dusty ashes remained. Heedless, reckless, brave and headstrong and stubborn and so, so courageous. Charging headfirst into danger, without a second though to his own safety, because that’s what he always did.

Regulus was like cool water, hidden underneath the earth, dealing in whispered secrets and subtle half-truths. He was the first to realize that lies were just as important as firsts, that sometimes a soft breath in an ear could achieve what a spell could not. He traded in manipulations and rumors, bargains and deals, and always managed to stay alive. Because what use was bravery, if you were too injured to fight? How could you save someone if you lay in a shallow grave in the frozen ground?

He never got to choose his own role, was forced into it by Sirius’ recklessness. The dark shadow to his brother’s light, the perfect son to Sirius’ rebellion. It was easier this way, having one son who could be tamed and another that could not. Easier for him to protect his brother, keep him from dying or getting himself injured. Regulus always walked that fine line, between protecting his brother and hurting him.

There’s lightning somewhere outside, illuminating the dark room as Regulus’ fingers slip on a key. He frowns, takes a deep breath, the burns on his side aching. They were thick, shiny skin and blistered, his entire left side one huge line of flame. He had tried to heal it, had tried _Episkey_ and _Sana_ and _Emantur_ , tried desperately to mend the scar before it had set. It was useless, though - Sirius was always the brilliant one.

He remembers walking in to Sirius in his room, his shirt off and lying on the ground. He hadn’t realized how much his brother had covered for him, not until he saw the scars, the thick lines that covered his back, curled around his ribs, shakes up over his shoulders and neck. Even, precise, hundreds of tiny white pinpricks on his arm from Crucio, angry red lines from when Walburga had taken her anger out on him.

Sirius had jumped, one hand pointing his wand at him. _What the hell do you want_?

Regulus had turned, walked out of the room, but not before he recognized what Sirius was trying to do. Abscondam - Hide, one of the hardest spells to use. He had wondered if Sirius had sat like this every morning, covering up his scars with layers of spells.

Regulus lets out a shaking breath, his fingers brushing his side. It aches, from where Sirius had thrown him to the ground, the wound on his middle burning. Sirius had tried, tried to shield him with his own body, and his mother had struck him, right through the flesh.

He lets his eyes drift shut, biting at his lip. Sirius had taught him that trick, the trick of biting down until blood filled your mouth, a silent effort to not scream. He had seen his brother do it many times before, whenever Walburga tortured him or Orion screamed at him or when he was forced to say some cutting remark.

He exhales. He was a planner. It was in his nature, planning out scenes and scenarios, trying to anticipate some far-away future.

He knew, ever since he was 7, ever since he had watched Sirius scream his mother down after she hit him, that Sirius could not be controlled. That no matter how many times she’s beat him, no matter how many times she’s tortured him, no matter how many Crucio’s and Lacero’s and Secares she used, they could never break him enough that he would stop fighting. He was a warrior, and they would never be able to tame him.

But he knew his brother, knew him even when Regulus was 7. There was only one thing tethering him, keeping him in this hellhole, and that was Regulus.

He was 11 when he realized that Sirius would never leave, not while Regulus was still breathing underneath Walburga’s roof. He was at the table, that first night she had used Crucio on him, and he knew. Knew, as Sirius’s screams filled the kitchen that he was bound here, with invisible strands because he could not abandon his brother.

Regulus was a planner. Always had been. So, he started his first plan.

4 years. 4 years of doing everything he could to make Sirius hate him. 4 years of taunting, of insults, of revealing Sirius’ secrets even though it ripped him apart inside because he needed to cut that bond. He needed Sirius to hate him, enough that he would be compelled to leave. And if destroying the love between them was the price, then Regulus was prepared to pay it.

Bargains. That’s what Regulus specialized in, sacrifices and trades. He had been playing this game for 8 years now, counting his cards and waiting, and now Sirius was gone.

He knew that Sirius would try and come back. He also knew that Remus and James wouldn’t let him.

Regulus lets his hands still on the keys, his finger throbbing, the skin raw. It hurt, having to manipulate his brother like this, made him want to scream and cry and throw something. He knew the sacrifice he made, the choice in allowing Sirius to leave, had known it since he was 11.

He would stay, revive the Dark Mark, be forever condemned to a lifetime of death and destruction and despair. He would inherit the Black Fortune, would be forced to produce an heir and the best that he could wish for was that someone would kill him early enough that he couldn’t do any harm.

It was another component to his plan. If Sirius hated him, he wouldn’t be shattered when Regulus died.

Sacrifice. He would do it, gladly, would given up all his hopes and dreams, his ideas for a better world, because one of them had to survive this. One of them had to make it through, had to win and live and be happy. Sirius had James and Peter, Lilly and Marlene, Dorcas and Gideon and Fabian. Sirius had Remus.

Regulus was alone.

It was fine. He had chosen his path. Sirius was gone now, and fate could not be altered. Sirius would love, grow old, live out his days with Remus.

He knew his brother loved the werewolf. God, he knew.

And it was better, to give him the chance to be free, then to trap him in a life he never wanted. Because Regulus could bear it, bear the weight of the expectations, but Sirius would die.

It was funny. No matter how much they hated each other, no matter all the mistakes and betrayals and mocking jeers, they were still brothers. They would still protect each other, even if it killed them.

So Regulus cracks his knuckles, places them back on the keys. He’s made his choice, had made it long ago, given his older brother the one gift he would never have.

But he would always leave that top part of the piano empty, always left if for the ghost of the family they could have been.


End file.
